I think we all had our own idea about how it would be if Dusty and her child would have stayed at Pollenawatch. That maybe as a proud mother, she would have shown her calf to those who are closer to her than her own species. That the little one would have a friskiness like the young stallion we saw yesterday in a meadow on top of Slieve Elva, running and galloping, overtly discovering and celebrating its own existence. How charmingly curious it would be and how Dusty would mother it.
But we had to come to terms with sorrow in phases. First the info came that a newly-born dolphin had stranded at Doolin on December 2nd. But last Sunday, December 5th, Kate swam with Dusty. When, chilled to the bone, she left the water, she was in rapture. She said Dusty indeed seemed a little thinner, but that the region around the vagina felt very hard. We concluded it to be quite possible the infant had sunk in and that it was to happen now soon.
When today we walked down along the muddy stumble-path, a fog rather limited the visibility. But after an hour and a half of fruitless perusing the grey swell, it brightened up and the sun set part of the slope of the Slieve ablaze in jubilant shades. A strip of sea close to Arkeen conjured into heavenly blue, but at the same time the wind picked up and brought a mean biting chill. Nearly simultaneously I saw a dorsal fin approaching and knew our patience rewarded. But when you've been freezing for so long, the water winks ever less welcome, so we decided to stay a little longer, albeit on shore.
And then suddenly Jane was there. She hadn't been swimming with Dusty for five weeks, partly because she'd been snowed in, and eagerly wanted to enter the water, even more so for Dusty surfacing near and wide. We thought her really very brave. The temperature of the sea water at the moment is about 100C and then a 3 mil wetsuit is not an option. (Video)
When Jane came out of the water, we had only one question: Do you think Dusty is still pregnant? She shook her head. Dusty was distinctly thinner and the skin around her belly felt loose. Typical characteristics following childbirth. Moreover, Jane thought Dusty looked sad, she had her eyes big and wide open, whereas she usually keeps them half shut, in a peaceful expression of friendly wisdom.
And now, now issues arise again. Questions about existence, but also questions again as to why Dusty is not with her own kind, as there this possibly could have been prevented. And then also, why she seeks humans. Now it becomes evident how little support we could provide.
Why is she in quest of a life-form that physically is by far her inferior. Is it after all the intellectual dimension that attracts her? And that, in spite of the recent tragedy, she comes to us again. Have we so much more to offer, or is there something we don't know, a deeply rooted suspicion towards her own species, raped, shooed or shunned? Wry, unsmiling events.
And how are we going to handle this ourselves. Is there guilt because we weren't there when she needed us, or is there relief, because at the end of the day Dusty has stayed with us.
I just drove down a deserted road to Lisdoonvarna to get milk. On returning, I almost drove head-on into an oncoming car. Only then I realised that on the way there I had also driven on the right (wrong) side of the road. Buried in thought, on automatic pilot. Maybe a good lesson to stay with it, to let nothing go beyond the now, to follow that example of Dusty's. Life goes on anyway.
And then there is solace. The day before yesterday, Jane braved the white water, spurred by a cutting polar wind. Yesterday Kate, who caressed her, copiously on chest and belly. After that Silke, whom she brought a string of weed off a little stone. Who's soothing who?
Photo: Rod Bennett